


Herding Cats

by DustySoul



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Cats, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 22:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4409804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustySoul/pseuds/DustySoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire can talk to cats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Herding Cats

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt at the daredevil kinkmeme  
> http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/3230.html?thread=6870430#cmt6870430

“Shhh! It’s very secret you understand.”

The cat, black, with cunning eyes, bares its teeth in something more sinister than a smile. “Do the walls have ears?”

“You never know.” Claire stops pacing, crosses her arms over her chest, and looks at the cat. She shivers at her thoughts. Turning her head to look back out the window, to the city outside, she whispers, “You never know.”

The cat wines around her ankles and preens. “All I asked was what preoccupied you. Have I made it worse?”

Claire shakes her head.

“So tell me, is it about the man who’s blood you had to clean out of the sofa?”

Claire freezes. Then shivers again. She nods.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Juliet about that.” The cat says, going for levity.

But Claire has to remember having done that and that having a sofa that smells like blood, or at least rubbing alcohol, is unusual.

The cat hums. It’s not quite a purr. “Is there anything I could say to ease your mind?” The cat continues winding around her legs in lazy figure eights.

“No…”

“Not even that the contractor working the repairs on your building is working for him?”

Claire’s breath catches, “Working for who?”

“The king pin. The bad men. You know who.” The cat nipples at Claire’s bare toes. It continues, “Some of the men are in on it. One of them is a hit man who works in masonry while waiting for a call from his boss… The man who gets a coffee in that cafe around eight? He runs a human trafficking ring.”

It eases Claire. Just like the cat some how new it would.

And the cat goes on and on, not just who’s working for the man shadowing the city, but also all the minor, unrelated criminals and all their minor, unrelated offenses. Claire things it should upset her, make her panic. It confirms the danger she already knows. But instead of making her fear grow, it takes away her unease. She knows now, how deep it goes.

When the cat’s run out of steam, lying on its back playing with a loose thread at the end of her pajama pants, Claire lets out a sigh. “You know.” She says, “You guy’s really aren’t as bad as I thought.”

The cat meows indignantly at her.

“Almost worth the allergies.”

“ _Almost._ ” The feline derides and then scampers off, tail in the air.

 

 

Claire comes back the next day to empty the litter box and refill the food bowls. She settles in to watch some TV because Juliet had said she could and Claire doesn’t have cable. The cat walks across the back of the sofa. She settles behind Claire’s neck, whispering into her ear, “You know, if you wanted someone to take better watch over your apartment… there’s a someone in one of the local shelters, named Wrigley who’d really like a home.”

Claire turns her head. “Well, go on, tell me more.”

The cat tells her the name of the shelter, “He’s black, what I think you call a Bombay.”

Claire snorts. “No one cares about breeds now a days.”

“Well… he’s set to be ‘euthanized’ if he’s not adopted in the next week.”

Claire huffs, and turns back to the TV, “Well, I don’t really have a choice, then, do I?”

The cat nuzzles her, then jumps off the back of the couch and heads to food.

 

 

She gets the cat. Of course she does.

He’s young, part of an ear bitten off, scarred. He doesn’t have the kind of disability that would have people jumping to take him in. And, anyway, this isn’t really a neighborhood that sees a lot of adopts.

When he’s packed in a traveling crate on the back seat of her car, Claire asks, “Do you mind if I change your name to ‘Shadow’?”

There is a long moment of silence from the back. The cat is probably going through the first shock Claire and Juliet’s cat had gone through when they realized one could perfectly understand the other.

“Because _that’s_ original.”

And Claire doesn’t know how to respond to that. Eventually she asks, “Do you _like_ the name Wrigley?”

“I haven’t given it much thought.”

“How about Radar?”

“… I could be called Radar.” The cat says agreeably.

“So how old are you?” Claire asks while starting up the car.

“Around two years.”

“And, if you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your ear?”

“… A cat attacked me and my siblings when we were kittens.”

“Oh… um, I’m sorry to hear that.”

She can here Radar stretching or resettling in the travel carrier. “It was a long time ago.”

“Still…”

“So, what’s your name?”

“Oh, uh, Claire. Sorry, yes, I’m Claire.”

She can hear the cat snicker. It makes her want to hide her face a little less and roll her eyes a little more.

 

 

The cat takes stalk of Claire’s apartment. She lets him be, simply saying, “Please use the scratching post and not my furniture.”

“Why does your sofa smell like blood?”

“Because I semi routinely patch up a certain vigilante here.”

Radar freezes in his inspection of her throw rug. “Really?” He says, actually sounding interested in the conversation for once.

“Really. Is um… he something special…” Claire really doesn’t want to say _in cat land_ because it sounds incredibly rude.

Radar rolls with it, “Yes, he had the power to protect everyone as if they were his litter. And he uses it. It is… quite exceptional…”

“You’ll be able to meet him.” _If that kind of thing is important to you._ “And, uh, I don’t think he’s allergic.”

“When?”

“When he next needs something stitched up, I suppose.”

The cat comes to sit on Claire’s feet, looking up at her. “You are quite extraordinary as well.” He head butts her shin.

 

 

Its a few weeks until she sees Matt again. (Thank god.) And it’s not even anything that horrible. He mostly needs some things restitched and for someone to make sure he doesn’t die in his sleep.

Which is actually a great job for Radar, now that she thinks about it.

She puts the last dressing across Matt’s abdomen and starts cleaning up. Which Radar takes has his cue to come over and pester Matt for attention.

Claire goes to the kitchen, listening to Matt’s grunts of pain has he resettles himself for the cat and to Radar’s meowing and eventual purring.

“I thought you said you were allergic.” He calls to Claire.

“I am.”

He huffs out a ghost of a laugh and says, this time to the cat. “What’s your name, huh little guy?”

“Radar.” The cat responds.

Matt chokes on his own spit, Claire drops what she’d been disinfecting and returns to check on him.

“Can- can- I think I would have known before know if cats could talk.”

Radar huffs. “You have to listen for it.” He bites Matt’s fingers which had been idling near the feline’s face. “I’m surprised you didn’t know.”

“Claire?”

She nods, laughing to herself, “Yep. Cats can talk. And apparently they’re gossips about Daredevil and our local crime lords.”

Matt doesn’t say anything, Claire can practically see him thinking through this. She returns to her washing up. She expects to listen to Radar pestering Matt or idolizing him over the running water. But instead she can hear him hissing, “You know Claire is quite extraordinary. Really something.” And Matt’s breathing changes, pained. 

She looks over, seeing Radar kneading his paws into Matt’s bruised side. “But also very, very breakable. She can’t do her healing if she’s hurt. You understand” Radar hisses again, a truly feral sound.

And with that Radar leaps off the couch and saunters into the kitchen.

“I thought Daredevil was like, your hero or something.”

Radar tangles his body around her ankles, and purrs.

Claire smiles down at him, even as Matt calls, “Claire, I think your cat, you’re **_talking_** cat, just gave me the shovel talk.”

Claire laughs. Radar’s purring takes on a self satisfied tone. “I think he did Matt. And you know, he's right." He tone lets him know  _I'm joking_ while telling Radar  _I feel safe._

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to message or follow me on tumblr at dusty-soul.tumblr.com


End file.
